


And the Award Goes To...

by travels_in_time



Category: NCIS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 15:35:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10028552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/travels_in_time/pseuds/travels_in_time
Summary: Gibbs knows too much.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, this is a day late and already dated. It was just some fluff that wanted out. Written in an hour and not overly scrutinized. :)

McGee had been up way too late the night before, keeping Delilah company as she gleefully flipped through the after-party special shows and the gossip sites that were imploding in on themselves. So of course that would be the night that they got called out at 2:30 AM. He rolled out grumpily, silently cursing all awards shows and everyone associated with them. 

By the time they'd finished processing the house where the petty officer had been murdered and headed back to the office, he'd managed to down a couple of cups of coffee and was feeling marginally more human, but not any less exhausted. He brought the evidence down to be checked in, and then, yawning, took the stairs up to the bullpen. 

He knew immediately what the subject of conversation was. Bishop and Delilah should have gotten together to watch the show, he thought, and resolved to remember that for next year. It might just save his sanity. 

"--trying to start something," Bishop was saying. "But it sure sounded like she was saying he didn't know what he was talking about. I mean, she didn't come right out and say he's a crazy old coot, but--"

"Not Beatty's fault." Gibbs rounded the corner, clutching his own coffee. "He's an old pro, done dozens of these things. He knew something was up. Should have trusted his gut."

He surveyed the suddenly frozen bullpen and raised an eyebrow. "And the nominees for 'most likely to be unemployed if they don't get their asses in gear'…"

"On it, Boss," McGee said automatically, even though he had just walked in, and everyone scrambled. 

When Gibbs went downstairs to talk to Ducky, Bishop sidled over to McGee's desk. "He's under duress!" she hissed. "He's trying to signal us for help!" 

It was possible, McGee noted, that she might be spending too much time with Abby. Or maybe she was just near-delirious from lack of sleep, as he was. "He's been bodysnatched and replaced by aliens," he offered, trying to get into the spirit of the thing. 

Torres looked up. "He watched an awards show. Why is this a discussion?"

"Gibbs would _not_ watch the Oscars," Bishop said definitively. "He shouldn't have known what I was talking about!"

Reeves wandered over and propped himself on the other corner of McGee's desk. "Abby says he's omniscient," he stated. He leaned in a little and lowered his voice. "Which I know is ridiculous, but honestly I think I'm beginning to believe it." 

"He watched it," Torres insisted. "You heard him."

"No." Bishop shook her head firmly. "He wouldn't. Not voluntarily. So he's…someone got to him. Maybe they're threatening him. Maybe they're holding his boat hostage!" She looked around, wild-eyed, and Gibbs, who'd been nowhere in evidence moments before, fixed her with an incredulous stare. 

"Maybe you should all go home before you start hallucinating," he said pointedly. He looked at his watch. "Get some rest. Back here in six hours." 

McGee thought maybe the hallucinations had already started. Gibbs was sending them home? In the middle of a case? Sure, they couldn't do anything right now until the reports from evidence and autopsy came back, and they were all running on adrenaline at this point, but--

But not Gibbs. Gibbs was mainlining coffee as usual, but he wasn't as keyed up as he usually was; was more mellow, softer around the edges somehow. Was looking at his watch again, as if he had somewhere else to be.

McGee was ready-to-sleep-under-his-desk tired, but he'd been trained by a couple of the best investigators at NCIS. And like Bishop, he knew that Gibbs would never voluntarily watch the Academy Awards.

But he knew who would. 

Who might be the only person on Earth who could cajole Gibbs into watching along with him.

Reeves had disappeared by then. McGee waited until Torres had offered to drive Bishop home and dragged her out over her mumbled protests, and then he shut down his computer and stood up. Moving out from behind his own space, he paused by Gibbs' desk until Gibbs looked up. 

"Uh, Boss. Could you..." he started, and then wasn't sure how to go on. 

Gibbs cocked an eyebrow at him interrogatively, and McGee went for broke. "Could you let Tony know that…we'd really like to see him? When he…gets all settled in. Or whatever." 

There was silence for a long, long moment, and McGee held his breath, fearful that he'd guessed wrong, or worse, that he'd guessed right and would now be murdered horribly but silently and buried in an unmarked grave. Then the ice in Gibbs' eyes thawed, just a little, and he gave McGee a tiny nod. "Will do." 

McGee heaved a sigh of relief and returned the nod. "Back in six, Boss." He headed out, not looking back; hearing Gibbs gathering up his things behind him. Getting ready to go home.

As he stepped on to the elevator, McGee smiled.


End file.
